


The Milk Man

by annabagnell



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Belly Kink, Breastfeeding, Lactation, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, belly stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 05:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabagnell/pseuds/annabagnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"All this fatty, nutritious milk, going down the drain. I can think of far better places for it to go. Into you, perhaps."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Milk Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is an oooooold fic, folks. Just forgot to post it. 
> 
> As per usual, this fic contains male pregnancy and lactation kink. If it's not your cuppa tea, don't let the door hit you where the good lord split you. 
> 
> And yep, some things are just not physically possible. Can we all make a pact to ignore that in future?

Sherlock winced as he tugged on his paternity bra. The cups were just slightly too small for his swollen breasts, full as they were with milk. As he pulled the shirt over his breasts and belly, he heard a voice from behind him. 

"Going to have to pump again?" 

Sherlock nodded as he turned, belly and breasts jiggling painfully as he shifted. "They just fill up so fast. It's absurd. The baby's not even going to be here for another two months, at least." 

"Well, the freezer's full. We're just going to have to dump this, I guess." John shrugged and turned to leave. 

"Kind of a waste, don't you think?" Sherlock asked, voice suddenly lower. John would say it sounded sultry, if he didn't know better. He looked over his shoulder and the rest of his body quickly turned to follow. 

Sherlock was cupping his breasts in his hands, massaging the tissue gently, and John could see wet spots growing on the front of his shirt. "All this fatty, nutritious milk, going down the drain. I can think of far better places for it to go. Into you, perhaps." 

John shivered. _He didn't have a lactation kink. He didn't have a lactation kink. He didn't fantasize of suckling at Sherlock's nipples, drinking down the milk meant for the baby. He didn't ogle his husband's breasts when he wasn't looking, imagining how they'd feel in his hands. He didn't, he didn't, he didn't…_

Sherlock continued to massage his breasts, pained moans escaping him. "They're so full, John. Won't you help? Give me some relief? _Please?"_ Sherlock groaned as his shirt wetted, damp patches spreading where his engorged nipples leaked. 

John took three quick steps across the room and leaned slightly to capture a wet spot between his lips, tasting the slight tang of warm milk as it soaked through the layers of fabric. Sherlock moaned, and John did in return, suckling through the cloth. 

He let his hands rub at Sherlock's belly, swollen with their growing baby and sensitive as it stretched. Letting his lips part from the now drenched shirt, John pulled the garment over Sherlock's head to expose his belly and soaked brassiere. "Beautiful," he murmured, pressing kisses to the bulges of Sherlock's breasts against the restricting cloth as he reached around to undo the clasps. As the cloth sprang free, Sherlock's full breasts sagged down along the sides of his belly, nipples pert and hardened with stimulation. A dribble of milk spilled from each twin button, and John pushed Sherlock back against the wall and latched onto the left nipple. 

A stream of milk flowed instantly into his mouth, the tangy taste enhanced as it streamed unfiltered into his mouth. John lapped at the nipple, enticing a shiver from Sherlock as he suckled at the sensitized tissue. 

An idle thought lingered in the back of John's mind that this milk, warm and thick, was laden with calories, meant to provide a growing infant with all the nutrients it needed to grow big and fat until solid food was able to be eaten. But his sucking didn't slow, even as his stomach started to send him signals that it was filling with each swallow of Sherlock's milk. 

Sherlock's hand suddenly appeared on John's head, gently carding through his hair and pushing him away. "That one's empty. The other one, please." John nodded and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's deflated breast before rising to pull Sherlock from the wall and lay him on the bed. 

"I'm full, but so are you," John murmured, rubbing at his heavy stomach and nodding at Sherlock's still-engorged and leaking right breast. He gave a quick caress to Sherlock's belly and knelt on all fours to take Sherlock's nipple into his mouth. 

He drank slower this time, savouring the flavour of the nutrient-laden milk as it ran down his throat. His stomach smarted as it reached its fill, but John was determined to empty Sherlock's breast as he had the first. He felt sated, tired, and still he suckled at Sherlock's nipple, drawing stream after stream of sweet milk from the tissue. 

Sherlock hummed quietly in pleasure and relief as John emptied his breast in the sweetest, most intimate way possible, his warm lips and hot mouth encouraging Sherlock's body to let down its milk. He could tell John was tiring, taking deeper breaths and longer breaks between draws, his belly filling with the thick milk. He could see it hang slightly, growing little by little as John drank, emptying his breast as his stomach filled. 

Finally, Sherlock pushed him away from this breast, too, and John moaned as he sank onto the mattress beside his mate. His hands pulled up his shirt, baring his swollen belly, filled with milk. "Guess that takes care of breakfast," he murmured, rubbing at the mound. 

"You realise I pump three times per day?" Sherlock asked, and John groaned. "Nearly a gallon each time." 

"If it feeds the baby, it can feed me," John mumbled, wincing as the tight tissue of his belly smarted. 

"Thank you," Sherlock murmured, turning to give John a kiss. His mouth tasted of milk, and as Sherlock leaned closer his swollen belly brushed against John's. His cock gave a jump, appreciating the stimulation, but Sherlock put a lid on his desire for the moment. That could wait until later.

John moaned and rolled away from the kiss, clutching at his stomach. "Christ, Sherlock, the baby's not going to drink all that milk. I even had trouble." 

"The baby will alternate breasts. And you're right, it probably won't ever empty either breast each time. But it's all fine. I can pump and dump it, if need be." Sherlock hoped that if the baby didn't finish, John would, but with a belly full of milk it was a moot point at present. 

"Right. Well, I'm going to sleep. I can't move like this." John rolled onto his side, cupping his full belly. He looked at Sherlock with a mildly pained expression on his face, but he looked satisfied as well. He drifted off to sleep, rubbing his tight bulging stomach. 

* * *

John awoke hours later to the sound of Sherlock's electric pump buzzing from the bathroom. His stomach still felt full, but the thought of suckling from Sherlock's breasts sent a shot of arousal to his groin. He sat up and slid off the side of the mattress, walking sleepily into the bathroom. Sherlock was standing nude in front of the mirror, pump held against his breast. 

"Mind if I use the toilet?" John asked, more out of courtesy than need. They shared the bathroom regularly, one using the toilet as the other brushed their teeth. It was as normal as the seemingly constant supply of thumbs in the crisper, and John had a quick slash as Sherlock pumped. 

When he looked up, though, he saw Sherlock watching him out of the corner of his eye. John's eyes shot to the pump, which had been running since he awoke, and saw that it was empty. "Sherlock?" 

"I thought you might want first dibs," his mate returned, smiling as he switched off the pump. His breasts were once again engorged with milk, hanging heavily, twin globes resting on the larger bulge of his belly. 

John growled and moved quickly, hoisting Sherlock onto the counter, putting his heavy breasts at mouth level. John looked up at Sherlock from beneath his eyelashes and lifted one breast with his hand, pulling it forward until his lips brushed against the nipple. He licked, teasingly, and the tissue hardened against his tongue, milk beading on the pucker until it dropped, fat, moistening John's lip. Sherlock groaned, and John relented, taking the nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. 

Starting at a dribble and the flow increasing to a steady stream, Sherlock's breast emptied into John's waiting mouth, filling him once more with fatty milk. His belly grew steadily, every swallow adding to the liquid already sloshing in his stomach. 

Sherlock murmured softly when John had emptied the first breast, and he moved slowly to suckle at the other. His growing swollen belly rubbed against Sherlock's, solid skin against solid skin, and both men moaned at the sensation. John's belly sparked with pain, bloated full with milk, but he pressed past the discomfort and continued to drink. 

Finally, as Sherlock pushed John's mouth away, John let his hands fall to rub against the mass of his belly. He felt lethargic, heavy and full with Sherlock's milk, his stomach distended. "So full," he moaned, rubbing his belly. 

"You drank nearly two gallons of milk in the past six hours, it's no wonder," Sherlock replied, sliding down off the counter and adding his hands to the two already rubbing. John groaned. "You look pregnant." John turned to look in the mirror, and Sherlock was right - his belly was so swollen, so prominent on his middle that he could pass for a pregnant man. He wasn't as large as Sherlock, but unlike his mate, the only thing growing in his middle was his stomach, which indeed had a capacity limit. 

John was silent for a few moments, cupping his belly and prodding gently at the solid mass beneath his skin. "I want to fuck you," he murmured, making eye contact with Sherlock in the mirror. "Feel our bellies rubbing against each other, the baby kicking against my stomach." Sherlock nodded, eyes darkening in response, and John turned to take Sherlock's mouth in a bruising kiss. Their bellies pressed against each other, and both men moaned, John moving closer and adding pressure to his smarting stomach. 

John's cock twitched and grew, rising as it hardened to press against the bottom of his stomach. He reached around to stroke it and thrust a few times into his fist, bumping his belly rhythmically against Sherlock's. The movement woke the baby, who rolled and kicked in response, and before long both men were rutting against each other's bellies. 

"Bed, now," Sherlock grunted, and they were soon waddling down the hallway, bellies hanging heavy over hard cocks. Sherlock laid down on his back, his belly a globe protruding into the air, and John settled between his legs, his view obstructed by his own mounded stomach. He fumbled blindly to put a cushion beneath Sherlock's hips, and the Omega slung his right leg over John's shoulder, lining up John's erect prick with his already wet entrance. 

John pushed in in one smooth motion, belly stopping him from entering the whole way, and John groaned as he pressed his stomach firmer against Sherlock's, trying for more reach. As he seated himself mostly inside Sherlock's body, he could feel their baby rolling, kicking out against John's bulk. He started to thrust, crying out as his tight belly pressed against Sherlock's with every stroke. It didn't take long before John was on the cusp of orgasm, the rhythmic pressure and pain of his stomach coupled with the friction and pleasure of his cock inside Sherlock's tight, hot body bringing him to the edge. 

"Close?" he grunted, and Sherlock responded with an enthusiastic 'yeah'. John moved his hand down to wrap around Sherlock's prick, stroking in time with his thrusts. "Come," he grunted, pressing his belly against Sherlock's and giving short pumps of his hips, and he felt Sherlock's body tense and flutter around him as his cock spurted into John's hand and across both their bellies.

In a fit of pleasure, John pulled out as he orgasmed, his come spilling out onto Sherlock's bulging belly and mixing with the pregnant man's come. John rubbed his stomach all over Sherlock's, coating his own skin in their mixed come and rubbing it in, feeling his stomach slosh with the full belly of milk it held. He crawled to lay next to Sherlock on his back, his belly poking up into the air beside Sherlock's. 

"Enjoying your belly, are you?" Sherlock asked, breathless, moving a long-fingered hand over to stroke the tight skin. 

"Looking forward to dinner," John replied with a wicked grin. 

* * *

Sherlock hid his discomfort from John until late in the evening. John's feeding must have stimulated his breasts, because they were fuller than they had ever been, nearly spilling out of the cups of his brassiere. They sat high and heavy on his mounded belly, the bottoms bulging out underneath the bra and resting directly on his stomach, which quivered with activity. 

John had waddled around the flat all afternoon, rubbing absently at his newly-acquired belly. The stretched skin had reduced some in size as the hours passed and John digested his meals, but he still sported a small tummy. 

"I'm sloshing," John remarked as he walked over to the couch, belly poking out from his jumper. "I'm not used to an all-liquid diet." 

"You're allowed to eat something solid. You don't have to subsist on breast milk," Sherlock replied, shifting and wincing as his breasts jiggled painfully. 

"I'm fine with it, really. It's been interesting," he laughed, patting his stomach. He stopped after a moment, looking quizzically over at Sherlock. "It's been hours since…lunch. You'd usually have pumped by now." 

"I was…saving it. For you. There's a lot," he mumbled, looking down at his chest. 

John followed his gaze, eyes widening as he saw Sherlock's breasts. "Are you…is the bra even holding them?"

"No," Sherlock admitted, "They're too big. I think you…stimulated them." 

John grinned and shrugged his shoulders exaggeratedly. "Suppose I'll have to have a big appetite then, huh?" 

"Do you…are you…" Sherlock shook his head, embarassed. "Dinner?" 

"Absolutely ravenous," John replied, and shifted on the couch until he was straddling Sherlock's thighs, his smaller belly pressed once more against Sherlock's and gazing down at the man's ample breasts. He teasingly pulled at the hem of Sherlock's shirt, sliding it up over his belly and pressing kisses to the exposed skin, working his way up to Sherlock's chest. 

As the shirt slid up and off Sherlock's arms and was tugged over his head, John stared at the flesh bulging out of the brassiere. The bra barely contained Sherlock's breasts, which looked swollen and painful with the milk held inside. They jiggled slightly as Sherlock shifted and the baby rolled in his belly, and Sherlock let out a sigh of relief as John undid the clasps and let the constricting garment fall to the floor. 

John held one breast in his hand, feeling the solidity and gravidity of the heavy flesh. The unsupported breast hung, heavy and full, on the opposing side, and Sherlock reached to cup it, groaning as the hot flesh filled his hand. 

John lowered his head and began to suck, no teasing this time - Sherlock was in pain, overfull and swollen with milk. It took nearly half an hour to empty the first breast, a half hour during which the other breast continued to fill with milk. It was hugely swollen in Sherlock's hand, and he nearly cried with relief as John let off the first nipple to move to the second. 

"Don't let it go this long next time. I appreciate the thought, but I don't want you in pain," John murmured, giving a kiss to the puffy nipple before starting to suck. 

If John's belly had grown heavy and full emptying the first breast, it swelled even heavier as he drank from the second. He had to stop partway through to unbutton his trousers and tug off his jumper, the usually loose fabric constricting his stomach as he gorged on Sherlock's milk. John wasn't certain he would be able to drink all the milk from the second breast, and paused frequently to take shallow breaths before latching on once more and drinking past his fill. 

Finally, with a gentle push from Sherlock, John drank the last of the milk and flopped heavily onto the floor, his belly distended and hot. "That was easily-" burp "-a gallon and a quarter you had, there, Sherlock," John huffed, not daring to touch his reddened belly for fear of crying out in pain. His stomach was red and hugely swollen, solid and painful on his middle. "I am never going to move again." Sherlock laughed and sat up, looking at John's belly. 

"You did get rather large," Sherlock remarked, leaning down to extend a finger and poke John's belly.

"Don't you dare!" John scrambled to get away from the impending prod, heaving himself to his feet and clutching his belly as he did so. "I will end you." 

Sherlock guffawed and sat back on the couch. "Alright, alright. I'll let you be, incredible growing man."

John groaned. He shuffled heavily and sat at the end of the couch, belly poking into the air. "Just leave me here to die." 

"You didn't have to drink all of it!"

"I wanted to. At the time." He burped. "In retrospect, I should've let you pump."

"Will you do it again?"

"Yes. Sometime. Not for at least a week, though, and at some point I'll learn when to stop." 

"The novelty will wear off soon." 

"I doubt it. I like you like this, all swollen with my baby and full of milk." 

"Well, right now I'm swollen with your baby and you're full of milk." 

"Good point." John ran a hand lightly over his belly, bloated. He imagined there were close to two gallons of milk sitting heavily in his stomach, and he tried to imagine drinking two gallons of store-bought milk. This stuff was thicker, heavier, creamier, sweeter, laden with calories and fat…"Holy shit, I'm going to gain so much weight from this." 

"You'll work it off."

"I'll have to, unless I want to end up looking like you." Sherlock swatted John's foot. "Sorry, sorry. You look lovely, all pregnant and glowing." 

"Much better." 

"I look pregnant, too."

"Verily." 

"The things you put me up to." 

"It was your choice."

"How was I supposed to stop myself guzzling all that milk, your pretty breasts leaking all through your shirt and sitting on your belly? You're the Aphrodite of lactation." 

"Yes, well, I doubt they'll get any smaller for quite some time. It appears nursing is quite stimulating." 

"Ugh, you're giving me a lactation kink." 

"Works out well for me. It's much more fun to have you drink from my breasts than it is to pump."

"Next week. It'll take that long for me to digest." 

"If you say so. I predict you'll be begging for more by Wednesday." 

"Tomorrow, more likely," John grumbled, and flopped onto his side, draping an arm over his belly and drifting off to sleep. 


End file.
